


Dirty in the Dark

by Anonymous



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Dry Humping, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Masturbation, Power Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-08 03:23:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1924866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for the following (paraphrased) prompt (Round 7, Page 7): Grantaire grinds against something to get off, but someone catches him at it. The other person keeps their cool and talks him through it.</p><p>To that end, I give you the following summary: “Even better than I imagined,” murmured Bahorel. Grantaire couldn’t answer. He could only lie there and try to catch his breath. “Aren’t you glad I heard you jacking off? We could have missed this.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dirty in the Dark

Grantaire woke from his dream slowly. The details had already slipped away, but that was par for the course. What mattered were the broad strokes, and he remembered those just fine.

Heat. Skin. Hands.

Feeling really good. Like, insanely good.

And since Grantaire didn’t get to feel good too often, he wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass him by.

Grantaire took a shallow breath and ground his crotch into the bed. The sex dream had left him rock hard; the nearly unbearable pressure of the mattress against his dick had him clutching at his tangled sheets. He pressed his forehead into the mattress and circled his hips.

He groaned quietly, the sound disappearing in the dark. He was so hot. His room was boiling. Beads of sweat traced thin lines down his neck, down his back. It felt amazing.

He rolled his hips harder, resisting the urge to take himself in his hand. This had to last. He needed this to last.

Another breathy moan escaped him when he realized the front of his boxers were wet with his pre-come. That meant his sheets were getting wet too, but fuck it. He rubbed himself harder, back and forth, stroking his entire length across the mattress. Crazy, sparking pressure was building in his lower abdomen.

Grantaire clutched the sheets tighter. He could come from this. He could actually come from this, just from rutting against his bed. No reason why he shouldn’t. This felt good. Everyone deserved to feel good sometimes, right?

 _Right_ , he thought dumbly. He was in the comfortable twilight between awake and asleep; the sweet spot. _Brilliant_.

He ground down harder. Little huffs of air were forced from his lungs each time he pushed his hips down, but he didn’t care. The pleasure in him coiled tighter. Not much longer now. He picked up his pace, grinding faster, impatient. He re-evaluated his desire to draw it out.

“Slow down.”

Grantaire froze completely. He looked over his shoulder, his damp hair falling in front of his eyes.

Bahorel was leaning against Grantaire’s bedroom door, his muscular arms crossed casually over his chest. Even in the dark, Grantaire could tell he was wearing what he’d had on earlier – tight, dark jeans and an old black t-shirt – but he’d taken off his shoes.

Grantaire was already flushed, but he felt his face heating further, this time with embarrassment rather than lust. Oh, God. How much had Bahorel seen?

Bahorel held up one hand to Grantaire, palm out, to forestall any questions. Then he brought the hand back and began to examine his nails. “Don’t talk,” he said quietly. His voice was pitched low, but completely neutral. He sounded like he could be out for a Sunday drive. He wasn’t even looking at Grantaire. “Don’t think. Don’t stop.”

Grantaire tried his best to keep breathing. Shouldn’t Bahorel be mortified? He’d just caught Grantaire humping his own bed. The nonchalance was confusing.

He shifted a bit on the bed, and his aching dick rubbed against the mattress. Grantaire grunted before he could help himself.

“Just like that,” said Bahorel, completely calm. Grantaire’s eyes snapped up to his face, but Bahorel still wasn’t looking. He was also totally relaxed, which was insane, because Grantaire felt ready to vibrate off the bed. Or out of his skin. Whichever came first.

When Grantaire didn’t move, Bahorel’s eyes flicked up. “Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed,” he said quietly.

“Why are you still here?” Grantaire managed.

“Because I want to be.” Bahorel breathed deeply and rolled his neck from shoulder to shoulder. The movement caused his dark hair to fall across his forehead, obscuring even more of his pale face. “I’ve been watching you, R. Enjolras doesn’t know a good thing when he sees it.”

“And you do?”

“Yes. And I want to see more.”

Grantaire shivered in spite of the heat.

“I’ve decided I want to see you come,” Bahorel continued. He said it the same way people said they wanted to see a movie. “So either tell me to leave or keep going.”

Thinking was so far out of the realm of possibility that it wasn’t even funny. It was like Grantaire’s entire brain had collapsed into static. That, of course, did not stop his dick from reacting. He could feel the heaviness of it between his legs, twitching and pulsing. There was just something about Bahorel, the way he was being so matter-of-fact about everything. Grantaire’s dick was harder than it had ever been before.

Maybe this was okay. Maybe he should just…do what Bahorel said. He liked Bahorel, after all. And Bahorel had been watching him. Actually watching Grantaire. Wanting him.

The thought sent a spike of heat lancing down Grantaire’s spine, straight to his groin. Somebody wanted him. He had to bite down on his lower lip to keep any unwelcome sounds from escaping.

“So?” Bahorel asked, drawing Grantaire’s attention back to the sweltering present.

His body definitely wanted to keep going. His mind could conjure no objections.

With his eyes fixed on Bahorel, Grantaire lowered his hips to the bed and ground down.

“Perfect,” said Bahorel. “Take the blanket off.”

Grantaire did as he was bid and paused his rutting long enough to kick his blanket off his body. It was only getting in the way.

Bahorel recrossed his arms over his chest. He followed the movement of Grantaire’s hips through hooded lids, his eyes tracking lazily. “Faster,” he commanded softly.

Grantaire increased the speed of his thrusts. The hot pressure of the bed against his leaking dick was unbelievable.

“Harder,” said Bahorel.

Grantaire whimpered but obeyed. He was so close. So. Close. All he needed to do was let go. Let go and give this to Bahorel. Because Bahorel had asked for it. Enjolras never would. Never. But Bahorel...

This was it. Grantaire lowered his head and humped the bed in earnest. His orgasm was building inside him, ready to hit with the force of a freight train. Sweat slid over his skin and his skin slid over his sheets. The darkness cocooned him, sheltered him. He could feel Bahorel’s magnificent blue eyes on him.

Just a little more. A little more friction, a little more heat, and he’d be there. Just. A. Little. More-

“Stop.”

Grantaire’s hips jerked to a stop of their own accord. The stopping was painful; Grantaire was right on the precipice, ready to tumble into the white hot abyss. His frantic breathing echoed through the room.

“Get up.”

Arms and legs trembling, Grantaire pushed himself off the bed and faced Bahorel. His cock tented the front of his cotton boxers.  

“Take off your shirt.”

The thin t-shirt Grantaire liked to sleep in joined the blanket on the floor. He’d sweated through it anyway. No reason for him to keep wearing it, really.

Head tilted, Bahorel considered Grantaire’s bare chest in the dim light of the bedroom. His eyes strayed briefly to Grantaire’s groin, but moved back up quickly. “Come here,” he finally said, nodding his head to indicate the patch of floor immediately in front of him.

The blush from earlier was back, creeping up Grantaire’s cheeks and down his neck. “Why?”

Bahorel’s gaze remained steady. “I want to see you,” he said simply.

Oh. Right.

Grantaire walked silently across his carpeted floor until he arrived at the spot Bahorel had indicated. They were close now. If Grantaire shuffled forward at all, the head of his cock would be touching Bahorel’s muscular leg.

“Are you going to touch me now?” Grantaire whispered. At that moment, there was nothing Grantaire wanted more than for Bahorel to wrap his long, calloused fingers around his dick. Absolutely nothing.

“No,” answered Bahorel. “How many times do I have to say it? I’m going to watch.”

Grantaire blinked at Bahorel, too muddled with lust and sleep to comprehend his meaning. Bahorel responded by bending his knee and presenting his thigh. With swift, efficient movements, he used the pads of his fingers to guide Grantaire closer until Grantaire was straddling him.

Grantaire took the hint. He leaned forward and pressed the palms of his hands flat against the door, one on each side of Bahorel’s shoulders. Inches separated their faces. From this vantage point, Grantaire was better able to appreciate the sharp angles of Bahorel’s chin and cheeks. The dark dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose. The fullness of his pink lips.

In other words, Grantaire could appreciate that Bahorel was fucking hot.

With his mind full of Bahorel, Grantaire threw his head back and ground down onto Bahorel’s denim-covered thigh.

“Christ,” Grantaire gasped. This was even better than the bed. So much better. Real, living, breathing human was always better.

Bahorel said nothing. He didn’t touch Grantaire, he didn’t smile, he didn’t move. He just watched, almost impassive. His piercing gaze tore Grantaire up, setting him on fire in places he didn’t know could burn.  

Once again, Grantaire was approaching the brink. He rubbed his entire length against Bahorel’s hot thigh, using the door as leverage to really grind. His heart pounded hard in his chest from the potent cocktail of arousal and adrenal running through his system.

Nearly there. Oh, God, nearly there.

“Come now, Grantaire,” ordered Bahorel so, so softly.

Grantaire collapsed against Bahorel as he came harder than he had in months. He could feel his come soaking into his boxers and dripping down the inside of his leg.

Bahorel gripped Grantaire by the biceps as he hunched forward and guided them both down until he was sitting on the floor with Grantaire draped over the top of him. Grantaire shuddered as Bahorel ran his hand through Grantaire’s sweaty hair.

“Even better than I imagined,” murmured Bahorel. Grantaire couldn’t answer. He could only lie there and try to catch his breath. “Aren’t you glad I heard you jacking off? We could have missed this.”

Grantaire closed his eyes and twisted his hands into Bahorel’s shirt. “Maybe next time you’ll be the filthy wreck.”

Although Grantaire couldn’t see his face, he felt it as Bahorel smiled against his shoulder. “Yeah. Next time.”   


End file.
